


A Most Welcome Distraction

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: When the Winchesters come knocking, the reader feels a strong connection with Sam





	A Most Welcome Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

Dust motes danced in the evening sunlight filtering through the window, reflecting off of your grandmother’s sword. It held the focal point of her living room- your inheritance, to aid you in what she called ‘the family business’. A fiery woman, rough around the edges in the way only hunters are, it was still hard to believe she was gone. The grizzled old hunter was the only mother you had ever known, raising you from infancy after a rugaru took out your parents. The heart attack had been sudden, leaving you reeling as you struggled to adjust to her loss.

Strangely enough, you felt that if it had been a monster to take her out, you could have coped better. At least you would have had revenge to give you guidance, give you a purpose. As it was, you were left floundering, swallowing down your emotions as you packed away her possessions. There wasn’t much; always a frugal woman, your grandmother didn’t believe on holding onto things. The only exceptions were her hunting journal, a yellowed family photo album, and her hunting gear. Everything else had already been boxed away, leaving only the sword and a few odds and ends.

Rooting through the basement, the chiming doorbell got your attention. Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you climbed back upstairs, the door chiming again, this time accompanied by loud knocking. You checked to make sure the knife tucked into your waistband was in easy reach before glancing out the peephole. Two men dressed in suits stood on the porch, looking around in boredom.

You had to admit they were easy on the eyes. The shorter one, if he could be called short, was tapping his foot impatiently. The taller one looked on in amusement, turning to tell him something. His words were muffled; you could just barely make out his mellow voice. If you’d been looking for some company, you wouldn’t mind making his acquaintance.

Just as the hazel eyed man raised his hand to knock again, you cracked open the door, keeping the chain on the hook. Both men snapped to attention, the hazel eyed giant flashing you a dimpled smile. You directed a stern warning to your knees, ordering them not to buckle; those dimples were lethal. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

They introduced themselves as Agents Hill and Gibbons, flashing FBI badges at you. Trying to keep the polite look on your face, you started reaching for your knife; their aliases were just as fake as those badges. Guard up, you told them your name.

“May we come in?” ‘Agent Gibbons’ asked, giving you puppy dog eyes (and how a man well over six feet could manage that you didn’t know).

Briefly debating the wisdom, you undid the chain, stepping aside and gesturing them in. You relaxed slightly when they were able to get past the devil’s trap painted on the underside of the welcome mat- at least they weren’t demons. And none of the protective sigils your grandmother had carved into the door frame activated, so at the very least they were human. Though you didn’t recall any nearby cases, between the fake names and badges, you’d wager they were fellow hunters. However, you didn’t let down your guard; there were plenty of unfriendly hunters in the world and you still didn’t know what they wanted.

You knew what your grandmother would say: play along and get as much information as possible. “Can I get you anything to drink, Agents?”

“Nothing for me, sweetheart,” Agent Freckles answered with a flirtatious smile.

“A glass of water, if it’s not too much trouble,” Agent Gigantor requested, flashing those dimples again. You didn’t miss the subtle elbow jab he directed into his partner’s side.

“Coming right up.”

Out of sight in the kitchen, you made a show of clanking the ice into the glass, straining to hear their whispered conversation. Filling the glass with water, you overheard one of them say “Come on it’s right there. I say we grab it and haul ass outta here.”

“No, Dean, we don’t even know if it’s the right one. Let’s just wait and see what she has to say.”

More whispered arguing commenced, too low for you to hear. Setting the glass gingerly on the countertop, you eased open the pantry door as quietly as possible. Grasping the shotgun inside, you checked to make sure the rock salt shells were loaded, thankful for your grandmother’s foresight to keep a gun in every room. A quick peek around the corner and you saw Freckles gesturing at her sword- that must be what he wanted to ‘grab’. Like hell you were letting them make off with it.

The stunned expression on their faces when you cocked the shotgun, aiming it squarely at Freckles, was damn near hilarious. “No one is taking anything boys. Now, why don’t you tell me who you really are before I pump you full of rock salt. It may not kill you, but it’ll still hurt like a sonuvabitch.”

Two pairs of hands came up, and they both slowly rose to their feet. “Let’s all just relax and not do anything hasty,” ‘Agent’ Jolly Green spoke up. “We just want to talk, that’s all.”

“So talk,” you ordered, “starting with your real names. Gran was a big ZZ Top fan, and those names are as fake as your badges. You’re not FBI, so who are you?”

“My name is Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We just have some questions about your grandmother, if that’s alright with you”

There wasn’t a hunter in America who didn’t know those names. “Sam and Dean…Winchester?”

“You’ve heard of us?” Sam seemed surprised and uneasy that their reputation preceded them.

“Everyone who’s anyone has heard of you two. Opening a devil’s gate and jump starting the apocalypse earns you a certain notoriety. So does sealing away the devil and stopping the end of days.” Setting the shotgun down, you gestured for them to take their seats again, perching on the edge of your grandmother’s armchair. “My gran used to team up sometimes with a hunter named Rufus. She always said he gossiped worse than a middle schooler and had plenty of stories about you two. So, what do the infamous Winchesters want with me?”

Dean leaned forward. “Here’s the thing: me and Sam are checking out leads for a hunt, looking for a sword forged with dragon’s blood. Turns out your grandma’s sword fits the bill.”

“Dragons? Those are real?”

“Yeah, and the only thing that can kill them is a weapon forged in their blood. So, you’d really be doing us a solid if we could just…borrow it for a bit.”

“To hunt a dragon? Because those are a thing that exist apparently.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you noticed Sam staring at you. The open admiration in his eyes left you feeling flustered, heart fluttering under the attention. Heaving a sigh, you said, “Okay. On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“I want in.”

That got their attention. Shooting each other a look, Sam hesitantly asked, “You want to join…on the hunt?”

“Yes. I’ll let you borrow the sword, but you better damn well believe I’m coming with you.”

Sharing another uneasy look, the two of them seemed to carry on an entire conversation with a glance. You watched the subtle shift in their faces, unable to decipher what was being said. You could tell they didn’t want to bring you along; you were an unknown element to them, and you couldn’t really fault them for wanting to be cautious. However, if they thought that they could just take the sword and ditch you, they had another thing coming.

Sighing gustily, you interrupted them. “Look, I get it: you guys don’t know me or my hunting style. I understand, believe me. But if there’s a dragon- an actual, honest-to-goodness dragon- on the loose, I want to help stop it. Just give me some time to pack my gear and we can head out.”

“You sure about this?” Sam asked gently, worry written all over his face. Even though he was a virtual stranger, you couldn’t help but be touched at his concern, however misplaced it was.

“Positive. Besides, how many hunters can say they’ve taken out Mushu?”

Dean laughed. Sam looked less amused, lips pursing in a thin line. You couldn’t help noticing just how pink and plush they were, giving yourself a mental kick to get your mind out of the gutter. Those hazel eyes seemed to bore into your own, leaving you feeling naked and exposed. It was easy to get lost in them. Absorbed in your staring contest, you missed the knowing look Dean gave the pair of you.

Finally, Sam glanced away in resignation. Looking over to Dean, he shrugged and nodded. Turning to you Dean said, “Well alright then. The hunt is about a day’s drive from here, so why don’t me and Sam get out of your hair for now, and we’ll swing by in the morning to pick you and the sword up. Sound good?”

“Sure,” you replied.

“Awesome. Think you can direct us to a cheap motel nearby?”

“There aren’t really a lot of motels in the area, just a lot of bed-and-breakfasts.” Biting your lip, you suggested, “You could always bunk here for the night. The guest room is still furnished and the couch isn’t terrible.”

It was clear they weren’t expecting the offer. “You don’t have to do that,” Sam said, “you don’t know us from a stranger down the street.”

“It’s okay, really. Besides, my door locks and I know where all the weapons in the house are stashed,” you joked lightly.

That earned a laugh from both of them. “Well, this turned out a hell of a lot better than I thought it would,” Dean said.

“What he means is thank you,” Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t mention it. I was just about to order some pizza if you guys are hungry.”

“Awesome. You know, you’ve got to be the nicest person who’s ever held me at gunpoint,” Dean joked.

“Is that a common occurrence?” you teased.

“You’d be surprised,” Sam joined in.

Laughing, you couldn’t help noticing the way Sam’s eyes lingered on your face, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The look he gave you sent a tingle of warmth through your belly, a reminder of just how long it had been since you’d last been with a man. With everything that had happened recently, you welcomed the distraction. Sam Winchester, with his charming smile and quiet humor, was a most welcome one as far as you were concerned.

While they went to grab their gear from the absolutely gorgeous Impala parked in front of your house, you busied yourself with making up the guest bedroom, thoughts straying back to Sam and the way he had your heart skipping with a few dimpled smiles. All the stories your gran had shared via Rufus failed to mention just how handsome he was, all strong jaw and pink lips and silky hair you were itching to run your hands through. The crotchety older hunter admitted to a grudging respect for the brothers, crediting them with heroism you’d never heard of outside the silver screen. They were good men by his account- selfless, brave, and intelligent to boot. From your brief interaction with them, you were inclined to agree.

Grabbing some extra blankets from the linen closet, you headed back to the living room, setting them aside for the time being. Sam and Dean returned, duffel bags in hand. You directed them to the guest room where they could leave their things, calling the local pizza joint as you waited from them to finish unpacking. It felt strange to have other people in the house; ever since gran died, it had just been you wandering the halls of the old place. Even when she was alive, it was usually just the two of you. It hit you abruptly how lonely you’d been since her death.

A gentle cough interrupted your sudden melancholy. Snapping back to the present, you fixed a smile on your face. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he replied, looking at you with concern, “everything okay? You looked a little…out of it.”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back against the sink, “everything’s fine. It just- it feels a little weird having other people in the house. Gran wasn’t really one for company. Oh, I ordered the pizza by the way. I wasn’t sure what you guys like, so I just ordered my regular, if that’s okay.”

“No complaints here, and as long as it’s not leafy and green, Dean won’t care. We should be thanking you for putting us up for the night, and feeding us. And helping out with the hunt. We owe you one.” Sam shuffled a little bit closer, hands in his pockets and a bashful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I honestly didn’t think we’d get so lucky finding a sword, much less that you’d be a hunter too.”

“Don’t mention it. To be honest, I could use the distraction. Cleaning this place out…I need a break. Too many memories wrapped up in these walls,” you sighed, glancing off to the side. “Really, you guys are doing me a favor. And gran wouldn’t want me to turn my back on a hunt when innocent lives are at stake.”

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Sam said quietly.

“She was,” you responded just as quietly.

There was a charged moment of silence, the air heavy with things left unsaid. Your eyes flitted back to Sam, only to find that he was staring again, studying you contemplatively. What you wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking. There was just something about him that pulled you in, an air of restrained strength and quiet resilience.Your attraction to him was undeniable, and growing stronger by the minute. And unless your instincts were way off the mark, the feeling was mutual.

Before anything more could be said, Dean sauntered into the room, shattering whatever it was between you and Sam. He stopped abruptly, perhaps sensing the tension in the room. “Oh hey, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to see about taking you up on that offer for something to drink.”

You jolted back to reality. “Sure thing,” you piped up, a little too quickly.

Rummaging in the fridge, you grabbed some beers for the three of you. Bracing yourself, smile firmly back in place, you turned to face them, just barely catching the warning look Sam was giving his brother. He snapped to attention, smiling as you handed them their beers. Dean nodded his thanks, a smirk toying at the edges of his mouth. You could hazard a guess as to what put it there: an older brother who couldn’t resist giving his younger brother a hard time.

Feigning ignorance, you said nothing, simply led them back to the living room. Nothing to do but relax while waiting for dinner to arrive. There’d be plenty of time to pack your gear later on. Rifling through the small collection of DVDs not yet packed away, you pulled out an action classic. Holding up the case, you asked, “You boys up for Die Hard?”

The evening passed by quickly, as you bantered with the brothers, feeling more at ease around them than you had in a long time. It felt so natural to tease them, siding with Dean when debating the merits of DVD versus Netflix, and watching in amusement as the two men fell into argument about the best snacks for movies. Dean dramatically accused you of favoritism when you sided with Sam when he tried to rope you in on the great licorice debate.

“Sorry, Dean, but licorice tastes like dirt and the crushed dreams of children.”

“Whatever,” he huffed indignantly around a slice of pizza, “no accounting for taste.”

Your laughter joining Sam’s, you couldn’t help noticing the way his eyes sparkled with happiness. You tried to keep your attention on the movie, but it was hard not to be aware of him as the night wore on. It was nearing midnight when you threw in the towel. Stretching, you bid the brother’s goodnight, promising to be ready for the drive bright and early the next morning. They returned it, Dean heading for the guest room. Apparently he’d won a game of rock-paper-scissors earlier, claiming the bed for his own.

Changing into your pajamas, your thoughts strayed to Sam as you brushed your teeth. You’d just met the guy, but there was no denying the connection you felt. Come morning, the three of you would be sharing space for the next few days; you wouldn’t get another moment of solitude with him with Dean around. Chewing your lip, said screw it, deciding to take a chance and go out on a limb. Checking your medicine cabinet, you were relieved to see you still had some condoms left that hadn’t expired yet. Luck was on your side.

Heading down the hall back to the living room, you stifled a chuckle. Sam bounced around on the sofa, trying- and failing- to fit his tall frame on the short couch. It seemed you weren’t quiet enough; Sam’s head whipped up, strands of hair falling in his face. You stepped forward into the room, arms crossed in front of you as Sam sat up. You tried not to stare at the flex of his muscles from the simple movement, but it was a losing battle.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay on the couch?” you asked dubiously. Sam was easily a half foot longer than the sofa, and you didn’t envy the aches he’d have in the morning.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you with a soft smile. “If it gets bad, I can always go bunk in the Impala. Wouldn’t be the first time, believe me.”

Drawing in a steadying breath, you didn’t give yourself a chance to second guess your words. “Well that’s one option…”

That certainly got his attention. He perked up, a spark of interest in his eyes. “And the other is…”

It was now or never. Exhaling gustily, you said, “Look, I’m gonna level with you, Sam. You seem like a really great guy. You’re funny, smart, and have a wicked set of dimples.” He laughed, glancing down almost bashfully. You continued, “I know we just met, but I like you. And I get the feeling you like me. I understand if you don’t want to complicate things right before we’re supposed to head out on a hunt, but I just…I don’t want to regret not saying anything later on.”

Sam stared, looking anything but bashful now. Those gorgeous hazel eyes devoured you, studying your expression intently. You said nothing as he slowly got to his feet, crossing over to where you stood in a few strides. He kept a careful distance between you, tension thick in the air. Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as he ever-so-slowly reached out, tracing along the soft skin of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. That simple touch had you trembling in anticipation.

“So I didn’t imagine it after all?” he questioned softly, “this…whatever this is between us?”

“No, Sam, you didn’t imagine anything.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“No objections here,” you said shakily.

“The problem is,” he whispered as he leaned in closer, “if I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Sam, who said I wanted you to,” you replied just as quietly.

A hungry light kindling in his gaze, you held your breath as he crowded in, giving you plenty of time to draw back. Bumping the tip of his nose against yours, Sam brushed a feather soft kiss to your lips. The barely there contact, so light you could almost have imagined it, was nowhere near enough to satisfy you. Reaching up and threading your hands through that silky mane of hair the way you’d been itching to all evening, you tugged him closer, pressing your mouth firmly to his.

Sam moaned into the kiss, clearly caught off guard. The heat of his lips seared yours as you moved against him, capturing his bottom lip between your own. He groaned, his hands coming up to cradle your face between those giant palms, his fingers completely engulfing your head. He took control of the kiss as it grew more heated, both of you breaking away for air before diving back in for more. When you felt the tip of his tongue prodding along the seam of your lips, you didn’t hesitate to let him in, moaning as the taste of mint toothpaste and something uniquely Sam flooded your mouth.

The soft impact of your back against the wall jolted you back into the moment. While you’d been lost in the taste and heat and scent of Sam Winchester, he’d maneuvered you backwards until you hit the wall with a soft thump. Pulling away with a gasp, you couldn’t help the low whine that escaped you as his lips descended down your jaw and throat, mouth hot as he kissed and nuzzled the soft skin. Those broad hands slid down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Tracing your hands down his well-muscled shoulders, you couldn’t resist squeezing them, damn near whimpering at the lack of give. Sam was all muscle, the result of a lifetime of hunting. You couldn’t get enough, running your hands eagerly across his back. There was just so much of him, hot and firm under your touch. He made little encouraging noises against your neck as you explored him, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

When he slipped his hands underneath your top to skim along your skin, you arched into his touch with a moan. The rough skin of his palms dragged up your sides deliciously, sending shivers down your spine. You keened when he hesitantly cupped your breasts, panting out his name as quietly as possible. He groaned at the sound, nipping at you sharply before soothing the sting away with his tongue. He did it again and again, painting little love bites all across your neck and collarbone. His touch grew more confident, kneading your breasts through your bra, his thumbs toying with your nipples.

Head thumping against the wall, you let yourself get lost in him. The knowledge that, at any moment, Dean could walk in on the two of you as you made out in your living room made you hotter than ever. You were almost embarrassingly wet already, Sam’s skilled hands and lips reducing you to a puddle of want. Your hips bucked of their own accord, your body aching with need. It had been so long since you’d last been with anyone, too long.

“Sam,” you moaned involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he grunted harshly, “love the way you sound, the way you say my name. Gonna make you scream for me.”

“Fuck yes,” you panted back, spreading your legs wider subconsciously.

Sam took that as invitation to press up right against you, not an inch of space between your gasping, heaving bodies. Every long, firm inch of him was pressed close, the hard length of his cock notching between your legs like matching puzzle pieces. A whine slipped free when you felt just how eager he was for you. Fuck he was hung, if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. You actually whimpered a little, knowing that before the night was out, every last inch was going to be buried inside you.

Sam’s head snapped up, lust burning in his eyes. Snarling, he lunged for your lips, licking his way into your mouth. You gave as good as you got, kissing him harshly, biting at his bottom lip before sucking it between your own. He pinched your nipple in retaliation, pulling down the cups of your bra to feel your sweat slicked skin under his palms. As he rolled and pulled at the nipple, his other hand crept down your stomach, pausing at the waistband of your pajamas.

“This okay?” he broke away long enough to ask.

“Fuck, Sam, positive,” you whined back.

He swallowed your groan as you felt the first brush of his calloused fingers against your soaked curls, his movements only the slightest bit hampered by the confines of your panties. Sam kept the pressure light, just firm enough to tease as he ghosted over your clit, rubbing lazy circles around the sensitive bud. You couldn’t keep your hips from rocking forward, desperate for friction. “Sam,” you gasped, “you’re such a fucking tease.”

“Only a tease if I don’t deliver,” he chuckled harshly. Without another word, he dipped the tip of one finger into your opening, meeting no resistance from your slick walls. “Shit, you’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”

“What do you- hnng- what do you think?”

He groaned, withdrawing from you over your whining protests. He ran two fingers along the seam of your lower lips, spreading your slick around. When you tried rutting onto them, he slid the hand toying with your breast down to your waist, pinning you to the wall. Before you could object, he sank those same two fingers into you to the knuckles. Your mouth fell open at the sudden intrusion, gasping as he started pumping into you.

Clutching at him, whines spilling free as quietly as possible, you forgot how to breath as he stretched your inner walls, preparing you to take him in. Sam’s whispered encouragement drove you wild, arousal building as he praised how wet you were for him, flushed and gorgeous as you writhed helplessly in the face of what he was doing to you, the sounds you made driving him crazy. He nipped at your ear, brushing his thumb against your clit at the same time.

You let out a smothered yelp, cunt pulsing with need as he worked you higher. Done teasing you, Sam rubbed your clit just right, seeming to know without words exactly what you needed. Two fingers became three; you moaned at the stretch, so goddamn full it almost hurt. You were so close to coming you could almost taste it, walls fluttering around him in anticipation, the coil in your belly winding ever tighter.

“Come on, sweetheart, come for me. Gotta see how pretty you look when you come.”

Sam’s low voice, murmuring desperately in your ear, was the last push you needed. Your mouth fell open as the coil snapped at last. White hot bliss ripped through you, ecstasy rolling over you in waves. Sam slanted his mouth over yours, drinking down your every noise. His fingers didn’t stop, even as your inner walls clenched down tight around him. Your climax kept going on and on, drowning you in heat and lightning and more more more. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“Sam,” you whimpered against his mouth, “let me down. Please, Sam let me down, fuck.”

He didn’t answer, pulling away, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. Gradually, his fingers slowed their frantic movements, until they finally stilled completely. The two of you stood there, chests heaving as you struggled for air, Sam’s fingers still buried inside you. You both hissed when he eased his hand free, fingers coated in your slick. He studied them with lust blown eyes before popping them it his mouth with a low groan. Your empty pussy throbbed, already missing the stretch.

All was quiet as you took time to recover, save for your combined panting. Your head dropped forward, thumping against his solid frame. The smell of sweat and sex and Sam filled your nostrils with every labored breath, your head rising and falling in time to his heartbeats. Your pajamas stuck to your skin uncomfortably, positively drenched with your release. Sam nuzzled the side of your head, strands of his long silky hair falling in your face. You huffed out a weak chuckle. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Sam answered just as breathlessly. His cock dug into your stomach, still hard as a rock. Rolling your hips against him earned you another hiss. “Please don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you murmured apologetically, “what do you say we go to my room and I can take care of that for you?”

“You sure?” he asked, hazel eyes searching yours hopefully.

Draping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned in for a long, deep kiss. “Positive.”


End file.
